


Adrenaline Rush

by kruder



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Continuation of chapter 242/243, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kruder/pseuds/kruder
Summary: After he's rescued by He Tian, Mo Guan Shan finally askes the right question.Shorty-short one-shot! Enjoy!





	Adrenaline Rush

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Breath in. Breath out. Repeat. Brain commands feet. Brain commands lungs. Brain commands eyes. Look up. See the once white shirt, now stained with blood, dirt, torn above the waist where a small stripe of skin is showing. Don’t look. Follow.

He takes out his phone and talks quiet, urgent. I’m lost in the chaotic maze of small streets, left, right, was it left again? I lost all orientation.

A black car awaits us at a random corner, random to me, at last.

He rips the rear door open and shoves me brutally inside. I barely can bring my feet in before he slams the door shut. He goes around the car and slumps on the other seat in the back of the car. We start to move.

He looks out of the window, anywhere but me, why the fuck does he seem so pissed? I feel the anger waving off of him, hot, boiling rage filling the atmosphere in the car, making the air so thick it almost suffocates me.

My head falls back on the expensive black leather and I close my eyes. I slowly realize we made it out alive and I feel the adrenaline draining out of my system, leaving me tired, exhausted to death. The leather smells faintly like smoke and luxury, just like him, I notice.

It’s perfectly soundless in the car, the only thing I hear is his strained breathing and the blood rushing in my ears, my heart thumping in my chest. My thoughts on the other hand, are screaming. Why was he there? Why did he know I was in ass-deep trouble? Why did he help me, getting himself in danger? And why the fuck does he look now like he’s going to crush my bones any second instead of those fuckers?

I take some deep breaths and try to focus on my injuries. The pain is getting stronger, every move makes me wince slightly. Check my teeth with my tongue, nothing too loose. Splitting headache, blood scabbing around the left eye, throbbing in my nose, hopefully not broken. Ribs sour, stabbing pain when I breath in too deep, probably broken. Legs, knees, feet. Aching but working, nothing serious. Just bruises.

I glance over to him. Ripped shirt. Bad bruise on the jaw. Dried blood under the nose. The rest of his face I cannot see.

Without asking, I know where we’re going. I know there’s no point in arguing so I just tag along. I don’t have the energy to pick up a fight now, not with him being as strange and not so subtly aggressive as now.

The car stops in front of his apartment block and we stumble outside, ignoring the shocked gasps of passengers. He doesn’t say a single word, not even looks at me, and it’s making me increasingly uncomfortable. I wanna say something, anything, to divert the barely suppressed aggressivity, but my throat is dry and raspy like sand, every word is choked down painfully.

As soon as we’re in his apartment, I hurry to the fridge, finding it in the twilight without bumping into furniture, muscle memory, build up in the countless times I’ve made my way from the door to the kitchen. The icy water runs cool and soothing down my throat and I empty almost the whole bottle at once. This feels so fucking good, I hadn’t realized how thirsty I am.

A close rustle startles me and I turn around, just in time before he suddenly shoves me against the fridge. I hiss in pain when my back hits the hard surface.

“Ow! You stupid fuck! What’s wrong with you?”

I rub my neck and glare at him. He just stares at me and his eyes make me chill to the bone. They are a black menace, full of anger and I instantly try to back away, but I’m already pressed flatly against the fridge, there’s no fucking way to escape him.

To be honest, he’d scared me before, he has this dominant, threating streak that made me tremble like a bitch several times in the past, but this—this fucking freaks me out. I’ve just witnessed what he’s able to do with his fists, knees and feet and no thanks I’d rather not end up like a fucking cripple, beaten to a pulp in a luxurious apartment.

I raise my hands in a defensive gesture, I have to talk to him, I don’t even understand why he’s so fucking angry.

“He Tian”, I say with all the calm and confidence I can muster, which is not very much according to the slight tremble in my voice. “He Tian, what the hell? What’s wrong? Why are you-“

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

He interrupts me, his voice is dripping with cold rage and I freeze again. My eyes are darting around, is there anything I could use as a weapon in case he decides to kill me here and now? My thoughts are interrupted again by his low voice, shaking with anger.

“What were you thinking fighting those bastards on your own?”

My eyes snap to him and all I can manage is to shake my head in confusion. “W-- what?”

He takes a step closer and I sense the fury radiating from him, pinning me helpless against the fridge. At this close distance I see his face is badly bruised, an eye swollen and one or more deep cuts in his lips where the blood is drying in dark red and brown speckles. Suddenly I know why he’s so pissed and feel how the anger starts to well up inside of me.

“I didn’t call you, asshole! You came on your own decision, stalking me like a fucking freak!”

His hands slam hard on the fridge next to my head and I flinch away. He glares at me, his face only inches away.

“What if I hadn’t come?”

His voice is a low, menacing growl and I wanna push him away, but it’s like I’m frozen, my hands won’t obey me anymore.

“Why would you care?”, I whisper, weak and pathetic like a wimp.

He groans, desperate and annoyed before he looks in my face again. Suddenly, I see something chance in his eyes and fuck, why is he standing so close? His breath brushes over my face and I can smell his sweat, blood and dirt, his body heat is seeping through my shirt, my chest. I pant heavily, my body is tensed up to the point it hurts my sore muscles. Somehow this has taken a weird turn, even in my dazzled state I can feel this is not only about the fight.

It was a shitty idea to start a fight with them, yeah. It was stupid that I let myself be provoked by these assholes, right. I know my stubbornness and impulsivity will probably be the death of me some day, I know that! But why would he care? He can easily get another maid, or cook, or poor bitch to fool around with, or whatever function I have in his goddamn life.

I grit my teeth, gathering all courage that’s left in me.

“Stop this fuckery and tell me what’s your problem or I’ll leave! Right now!”

He’s eyes widen and I’ve no idea why me leaving would be a threat to him, but somehow it works.

“Don’t leave”, he says breathless.

“Then tell my what you’re so fucking angry about!”

I try my best to sound firm and confident, not scared, puzzled and nervous like hell. Not at all impressed by his physical closeness.

“Why would you care if I die somewhere in the fucking street? Beat up to death by some assholes?”

I see him wince, as if the image would cause him pain.

“Because-“ he lets out an aggressive huff and clenches his fists, still pressed on the cool surface of the fridge. “Because I care-“

He doesn’t finish the sentence, mumbles something barely understandable and looks down.

I stare at him, my heart beats so fast as if it’s about to leap out of my chest, and I’m starting to get an idea what this is about.

“Fuck this”, he says with a despair I didn’t knew was possible for him and lunges forward.

His lips crash onto mine and I groan in pain when my head slams against the fridge, muffled by his mouth ravaging mine, not gentle, not tender, but brutal and wanting, taking not asking.

A fresh rush of adrenaline floods my veins like liquid iron and my mind goes blank. Against my will I’m reacting to his eager lips and my hands clutch on his drenched, dirty shirt. My brain stops commanding my body, instincts are taking over, I surrender, completely. As if I’d been doing it all along, I open my lips and let his tongue enter my mouth, I suck it, lick it, bite it. He groans in my mouth, pressing every inch of his heated body against mine.

I’m filled with a want I’ve never felt before, raw, urgent and overwhelming. I don’t know what is happening to me, maybe it’s the adrenaline, the relief of surviving, but I _want_ him. My lips, my hands, my tongue, my dick, everything’s yearning for more, _more_. I grind myself against him, fuck, he’s hard too, I can feel it through his pants and the thought that there’s only a bit of fabric between our cocks makes me moan.

He is kissing me like he’s intoxicated, hot, needy, wet and with a force that’s almost painful. As if he’s lost control. Am I making him lose control? The thought is almost surreal, scary and it just turns me on like hell. His hand slides down and presses suddenly against my crotch, firmly stroking my erection through my pants. I hear myself moan out loud, gasping in lust.

Hastily he pulls down my pants and I just let him, I’m far beyond control myself. With hectic, rushed fingers he pulls down his own pants down to his thighs. A loud moan escapes my lips when he starts to jerk us off and I buck my hips in his fist, grabbing tightly onto his shirt. I have zero control over the loud, desperate sounds coming out of my mouth and I press my forehead on his shoulder, clutching his shoulders to support my shaky legs. He is groaning too, grunting hot and low in my neck.

I feel I’m about to cum, electric sparks of pleasure are filling me, from my curled toes, to the growing tension in my balls, to my lust-drenched brains I feel an incredible orgasm building.

“Fuck, I’m ---”

I wince when he speeds up his strokes with more pressure, and I thrust in his hand and against his slippery cock until we both come, crying out in pleasure. I feel hot streaks shooting on my shirt, his hands get drenched in white liquid and he moans while he’s stroking our cocks until there’s not a drip of cum left.

Quivering, breathless, I slump against him, my knees are weak and shaky. He breathes hot and fast in my neck, our half-hard, milked and over-sensitive still in his hands.

When I open my eyes again, he looks at me and to my relief, all the anger is gone in the dark, dazed eyes, half-lidded and burning. Still slightly out of breath, he finally answers my question.

“Because I fucking care about you, little Mo.”


End file.
